‘Why this date?'
‘You won’t understand’
says your smile
‘That’s my day, or
will be…,’ you add
with stylish silence.
With him the jazz
doesn’t help,
‘Whaayyy?’ he’s earnest.
‘We all do it,
Mine is a date.’
‘But its never coming!’
‘It always is,
wooling winters
with anticipation
then summers silently
sweltering in disappointment.’
He throws up his hands.
He won’t last long.
‘But you see,’
you tell him,
‘Jan 33 will last forever.’
‘What is forever?
…,’ you miss the rest
then something
you let slip
is not heard either.
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